


Get You Alone

by amber_sword_lilies



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Outdoor Sex, Somnophilia, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_sword_lilies/pseuds/amber_sword_lilies
Summary: The partners can't resist the boys as soon as they get a moment alone, and who can blame them?





	1. Nocts

It was fairly routine for you to watch him sleep. He did it so often, there were plenty of opportunities to witness it. The softening of his expression as troubles melted away. He was safe there. Sheltered.

Despite it having only been a few hours since your last sinful exploit with the Crown Prince, you’d woken up with a hunger. One that a midnight expedition to the kitchen wouldn’t sate.

You’d settled for watching him, knowing better than to wake him. You’d tried that before and it had started a pillow fight that didn’t end up nearly as sexy as it could’ve been. It had finished with Noctis turning over with a huff, slamming a pillow over his head and refusing to respond to you for another six hours as he slept.

A hoarse whine left his throat. You snapped your attention to his face, watching his brows knit. Sometimes you wished you could tap into that mind of his or watch his dreams in a projection above his head. This one had made him mutter and nudge the air with his nose. It was only when his leg accidently kicked against yours that you looked down.

So, it was _that_ kind of dream.

You had to bite your lip, stifle whatever needy sound you were bound to make. He was half-hard and twitching as he grew stiffer. You pulled your gaze back to his face. Under mussed raven hair, his features shifted with a looseness he never allowed himself in consciousness. His lip trembled, breath huffing from his nose between small moans that barely left his throat. Your hand had begun to snake out from underneath you, hovering over his hip.

_No. Don’t._

He’d be forcibly woken in a few hours anyway and dragged away for an unreasonably early council meeting that demanded his attention. Knowing him, he would wake up late and be so slow to get ready that there would be no time for any fun before his day began. There wouldn’t be another opportunity for quite some time. Depending on how much these next few days exhausted him, there wouldn’t be another chance within the next _week_.

An airy grunt left his mouth. Still facing him, your eyes flicked down again. He was fully hard now, the first gleaming pearl of precum beading at the tip.

_No harm in helping him out, but for the love of the Six, do not wake him up._

Taking one deep and slow breath, you let your fingers glide along the length of him. You could barely take your eyes off him as he twitched under the ghost of your touch. Your nails dragged slowly over the head, barely making contact. The shuddered breath that left him was _delightful._ Slowly, the voice that warned you away from this, from teasing him, began to fade. It was replaced by another that persuaded your hand to slip between your own legs. You bit back sighs as he grunted freely, your eyes squeezing shut in the pleasure you were giving to the both of you.

His hand was on your wrist, staying your teasing whispers of movement. You froze.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was stern, flat, the usual one that met you like a wall when you woke him. You turned to look at him, staring into the deep inkiness of his gaze. You mustered your best doe eyes and answered.

“Royal wake up call,” you mused, running your fingertips along the length of him again, watching him fight the hitch in his breath. “I got started early, though.”

He squeezed your wrist to stop you again.

“Then do it right.”

He pulled gently at your arm, the hint of an eager smirk on his pale lips. You straddled him, feeling the vice grip of his hands on your hips. With his nod, he watched you sink down onto him, sighing into the darkness of his bedroom. His breath hissed when your hips met; his head threw back with a muttered curse as you began the steady, grinding rhythm that would drive him to oblivion.


	2. Prompto

“Just one more shot!”

The boys groaned through fixed grins, remaining perfectly still for their fidgeting blond.

“Aw, come on guys, lemme just…” he trailed off into his mutterings again, lining the group up with one of the stone arches that crowned Duscae.

After a long, cramped and stifling drive from Lestallum, the entire crew had been more than grateful to stop. Camp was made; that was it for today. Shin-deep in water, the air that misted it was a sweet and fresh relief from the constant humidity of the region. After two weeks on the road with your constant companions, there was another type of heat that no sorbet, no soft breeze or cool night could stamp out. You needed him. But you needed the rest of them out of the way first.

“Yes! Perfect,” he grinned, pulling the camera away from his face to flick through the dozen or so shots he’d just taken. “Alright, now _that’s_ one for the ol’ scrapbook.”

The four of you waded to the shore, feeling the mud and silt under your toes. He turned to you with a sweet smile. Your hand lingered on his shoulder, returning his attention with a bashful look, eyes cast to the soft, fresh grass. He gave you a playful wink, before being distracted again.

Ignis’ fine features had set into stone. Stripped of his dignity, and his shoes, he set to work drying his feet. It had probably been very foolish of him to admit to such a pet peeve, especially in a region known for it’s wetlands. Gladio was only broken from his smirk when the water rippled at the catoblepas’ low booming. Still, he was in his element. They all were. Weeks of fresh air had done them a world of good, and travel had given them perspective again.

“Lunch, anyone?” Ignis broke the silence.

The approving nods and shrugs had the advisor back on his feet, facing the glowing beacon of the haven. You’d helped Ignis with the picnic, and he’d made it into a veritable feast.

“I’ll get it,” you offered, wriggling your toes in the lush grass.

“Are you sure?”

“Iggy, it’s like a hundred feet away and in broad daylight.”

You jumped when Prompto appeared beside you.

“And _I’m_ going to go with her,” he beamed, clasping your hand in his. “Can’t forget the samosas.”

Ignis shook his head and conceded, cleaning his glasses on a corner of his shirt.

“Don’t take too long… and don’t forget the lemonade.”

Luck was on your side.

The two of you walked, fingers intertwined, towards the camp. You’d only just made it into the small patch of trees when your mind began to drift. There was a freeness to him; a lack of inhibition he’d shown more often on this trip. He darted ahead, between one subject and the next, completely in his element, his prime. He was something special in dappled sunshine. As he shifted in and out of the patches of light, his hair changed from silver, to gold and back again. The healthy flush on his cheeks and the dusting of freckles on his skin convinced you that he was a work of art.

When he caught you staring, you quickly focused on the ground at your feet. The soft moss was littered with miniscule flowers; imitating the star-riddled nights that the trees obscured from it.

“Hey, everything oka- _mmpfff!_ ”

You caught him in a fevered kiss, fingers immediately running through the soft chaos of his hair. You could hear the giggle bubbling in his chest as he cupped your cheeks. His touches were too innocent. He froze when you ran a finger along the edge of his pants. The sigh that left him held more of the heat you’d been craving. His lips turned hungry, chasing over your jaw, neck, collarbone. Then he stopped.

“A-are you sure about this?” he asked, blue eyes wide. The excitement that sparked in them threatened to be dampened by his own wariness. “I mean, here? Like _now?_ ”

You cupped his cheeks and spoke in a breathless, urgent whisper.

“Prom, nobody’ll find out if we hurry up.”

You should’ve guessed what was next from the keen grin. In a flurry of movement and manhandling which all but defied his stature, he had you pinned to the ground. He chased kisses across your skin until his head was between your legs, and you were biting your knuckles to keep quiet.


	3. Ignis

The two of them laughed again; Ignis’ quiet and modest chuckle drowned out by the rich baritone of your mutual friend, one Gladiolus Amicitia. He’d dropped by to share his lunch hour with the two of you and had proceeded to show no signs of leaving.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him; you did. You found his company to be an earthy relief from the sometimes aloof Ignis. He’d focus on making you laugh, not on a hundred and one obligations. Gladio lived in the now. Ignis was locked in his head.

Most of the time.

You’d caught him on several occasions. Lost in the pleasure until his lips parted with a soft sigh. Just thinking about it put a set in your jaw and made you cross your legs. Leant against the edge of his desk, he looked delectable. Long, lean limbs held with lazy poise. The gentle breeze that made the papers on his desk flutter brought the smells of summer; freshly mown grass, the Citadel’s flowerbeds and the bitterness of hot tarmac.

That same breeze passed Ignis before it reached you, carrying his scents; leather, vanilla and coffee. Always coffee. You could practically smell his skin, feel his hand wrapping around your throat with a reverent power. Your eyes slowed to a crawl, taking in every inch of him. He’d abandoned his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his graphite shirt, leaving supple forearms bare and folded. By the time you’d trailed your eyes up the curve of his neck, something prematurely brought you to the jade hues that could say so much in silence.

He was watching you. He’d caught you. Again.

A sudden beeping shocked you from your observations and broke Ignis from his glare. Gladio stood with a huff and shucked on his shirt, holding a bright red apple in his mouth. He took it away after a crunching bite through the crisp flesh.

“See you two later, yeah?” he smiled. It was surprising and rare for Gladio to be the most innocent one in the room, but here he was, soft brown eyes completely unaware. He nodded and left, “Have a good day.”

The two of you said your goodbyes and waved the Shield off. Ignis closed the heavy wooden door of his office and turned the lock with a resounding _click_ that made your thighs tense. He sighed heavily and stayed facing the door.

“Desk. _Now.”_

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Within the minute you were leaning over polished walnut, propped up on your forearms. Your skirt was unzipped, but still in place. He liked to do the honours himself.

You heard the light taps of his shoes as he turned around and prowled closer. Anticipation tied a knot in your gut as you bit the inside of your lip. A single fingertip drew up the back of your thigh.

“This craving of yours,” he began. Both slender, gloved hands were on your thighs, pushing the skirt up until it bunched at your waist, palms spreading over the swell of your ass. “is becoming an issue.”

His hands left you, and you knew better than to turn around. The clinking of his belt buckle made your heart race. At the sound of straining leather as he folded the belt, your breath hitched. You could almost hear the smirk when he continued in low, dulcet tones.

“Patience is a virtue, dearest,” he ran a fingertip under the edge of your panties. He slipped them down until they gathered at your knees. The summer breeze that had started all this caressed your bare skin, making you acutely aware of just how wet you were.

“Good things come to those who wait, and you’ve been waiting quite some time… haven’t you, kitten?”

You whined quietly, preparing yourself for the sweet sting of the belt and the reward that would follow.


	4. Gladiolus

He rarely drove, and at first you didn’t understand. He was perfectly capable, one could even say skilled, at the wheel. Witnessing him behind one felt unreasonably alluring. The deep thunder of his voice growled with the purring engine, talking about this thing and the next. He kept one hand on the side of the wheel, a long finger and thumb spread to make the smallest adjustments in his steering. His other rested on the gearstick with all the weight of control, guiding her through her paces. He preferred a manual. The lulls between gears and the ensuing murmur of approval from the car pulled more intimate moments into his mind and yours. When Gladiolus Amicitia drove, it was effortless, it was suave, and it was tempting. Masculinity could’ve been his middle name.

He rounded the corner, turning the wheel with one casual circle of his palm. The focus in that aurous gaze had you melting into your seat a little more. After all, for all he seemed confident and able, Gladio was a cautious driver who preferred to remain uninterrupted. His rumbling monologue reached its crescendo, playing the final note of his symphony with the car.

You shook clarity back into your eyes, plucking your bag from the footwell to wait for him as he closed his door. No matter how gently he did it, the entire car always moved slightly, reacting to the lazy power in his limbs. It was enough to make the earth move; you knew that better than anyone. When passion caught him and set his inhibitions on fire, power was what remained. He’d apologised countless times for being so rough. He never meant to crush you in his arms, to pin you down with the sheer weight of him, to mark you with desperate hands and a fierce mouth.

You only just managed to wait until you were inside. After unceremoniously throwing your bag onto the sofa, you caught him just as he turned away from locking the door. The dull thud of his shoulders hitting the wood was the sound of satisfaction, of victory.

But it wasn’t quite enough.

Fingers combing roughly through his hair, you tugged him down. Your lips crashed against his, still for a moment while he processed this. The spark struck a flame and he came back, burning with a vengeance. A large hand pressed against the small of your back, pulling you flush to him. His kiss turned hungry, chasing you for more, tongue meeting yours as a low groan snagged in his throat.

Freeing one hand from his hair, you drew a line down his chest, turning your fingers down to slip towards something more telling. His lips pulled into a grin against yours, freeing husky whispers between kisses.

“All you had to do… was ask, sweetheart.”

“This is me asking.”

He took a fistful of your hair and tilted your head back, exposing the smooth skin of your neck. His lips brushed your jaw before dragging down.

“Ask nicely,” he said, his teeth grazing over your pulse.

You fixed him with a heated look, watching the amber of his eyes darken to the intimate burn of a log fire. He smirked against your cheek. A muscular thigh forced between your own as the hand on your back became more insistent, grinding you against him. Instinctually, your hips rolled, seeking friction.

“Please,” tumbled from your lips as a whisper before you could stop it.

The fluttering of the word only fanned the flames. He picked you up, groaning his approval into another deep kiss as your legs wrapped around his waist.

Hands coursing through his hair, he swallowed your gasp when your back met a wall.

“Gladio,” you laughed breathlessly, head tilted to allow him his canvas. You’d wear the wine stains with quiet satisfaction. “At least take me to bed.”

He smirked into your skin again. His hips rutted against you, stirring the warm ache in your gut until a whine floated from your lips.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, babe.”


End file.
